


A Dance

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Act 2, F/F, Gen, Hawke is a lesbian, and Leandra hasn't gotten the message yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9160510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Hawke invites Isabela to accompany her to a dance, where Leandra works to set her daughter up with eligible noblemen.  Isabela makes sure Hawke has a good time regardless.





	

“Why did you invite me to this again?” Isabela asks, surveying the room.

“Because I get bored and I don’t  _ detest _ you,” Hawke says.  There are good things about having her family’s estate and standing back: no longer having to see Gamlen every day, for one.  However, there are also less pleasurable things: having to spend time rubbing elbows with the upper class at uptight parties.  But she goes because Mother enjoys it.  “Besides, I figure that you’d like the chance to find some easy marks.”

“I’m not a thief,” Isabela points out.  “Well, not exactly.  Not all the time, anyway.”

Hawke looks over at her, trying to ignore the way her stomach swoops at the sight of Isabela’s smile.  She also tries to ignore the way her own smile grows larger, just looking at her.  Perhaps it’s a foolish feeling, but it’s how she feels nonetheless.

“Jaina, guess who I’ve just run into!” It’s Mother.  “If you could give us a minute, Isabela.”

With reluctance, Hawke turns away from Isabela and towards Mother.  She’s accompanied by a young man, who looks just about Carver’s age.  He’s not anyone that Hawke recognizes.  

“This is Lord Landry,” Mother says, making introductions.  “And this is my daughter, Jaina Hawke.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hawke says formally, shaking his hand.

“You’re even more beautiful than your mother said, Jaina,” Lord Landry says grandly.

“Everyone calls me Hawke,” she says flatly.

Lord Landry frowns a little, but nods.  “What a… unique name.”

“My whole family has it,” Hawke says.  

“You have siblings?  Sisters, perhaps?” Lord Landry asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Bethany is dead.  Carver is a Grey Warden,” Hawke explains with an edge in her voice.  She’s still ashamed of how she failed to look out for her younger siblings.  

“Oh, I’m, uh, sorry,” he says.

“Thank you,” Hawke says.

There’s a long silence, Hawke looking at Landry.  She expects that he’s going to say something else, but his shoulders just rise and fall a little bit before he reaches for her hand again.

“Pleasure to meet you.  I must be going now,” he says, turning on his heel and leaving.

Before Hawke can catch her breath, Mother is on her.  She frowns and shakes her head.

“Can’t you be a little nicer?  I’m trying to find you a husband,” Mother says.

Hawke sighs.   _ This _ again.  “You don’t have to do that, Mother.  I’m fine.”

“You’re lonely, and alone.  You have your friends, but I don’t like thinking about you alone in that big manor house when I’m gone.  Loving your father and raising you and Bethany and Carver has been the greatest joys of my life, and I want that for you,” Mother says.  

“You’re not  _ dying _ , Mother.  You’re going to be around for a long time yet,” Hawke says firmly before softening her tone.  “And I’m happy with how things are right now.  I don’t need you to find me a husband.”

“But you’re such a pretty girl!  You just have to be a little more like your friend there,” Mother says, nodding behind Hawke.

Hawke turns to see Isabela chatting up some lord that Mother introduced her to at the last one of these dumb parties.  She’s telling a story and he looks absolutely enraptured by her.  It’s not like Hawke can blame him; Isabela knows how to tell a good story. 

Isabela catches her eye and gives her a grin.  She excuses herself, but not before the man she’s talking to takes her hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss.  

“What an absolute bore,” Isabela announces when she comes back to Hawke’s side.  “I couldn’t wait to get away.”

“Can you teach my daughter to charm the men like you do?” Mother asks.

“Mother!” Hawke says, flushing.  “Leave Isabela alone.”

Isabela laughs, looping her arm through Hawke’s.  “Oh, don’t shush your mother.  I quite like her.  I don’t think any other mother has wanted their daughter to be more like me.”  

“You’re just so charming!” Mother says.

“I know a few people who have found your daughter charming,” Isabela says.  “Not as charming as I am, but still.”

“Well, I have yet to see any signs of this charm of hers,” Mother says.

Hawke grumbles as she leads Isabela away.  The house has a balcony, so she leads them out there for a breath of fresh air.  She suddenly can’t stand to look at the nobles.

“Don’t encourage her.  She’s desperate to marry me off to some nobleman,” Hawke says.  “She doesn’t need any help with that.”

“Aah, still want to play the field?  I hear plenty nobles have fun on the side,” Isabela says.  “I have firsthand knowledge.”

Hawke laughs uncomfortably.  She unlinks their arms and stares out over Hightown.  The moons are bright in the sky, making it look almost as clear as day, but hauntingly so.

“I don’t want to marry a nobleman.  Ever,” Hawke says.  

“Why not?” Isabela asks softly.  “It’s not…”

“No, Isabela, I haven’t fallen madly and irrevocably in love with you.  Don’t worry,” Hawke says, keeping the waver out of her voice.  It’s a lie, but not wholly so.  “I don’t like men at all.  I never have.  So my mother’s dreams of my future husband and grandchildren are never going to come to fruition.  No matter how many men she introduces me to.”

“Just tell her, Hawke,” Isabela says.  “She’d understand.”

Hawke shrugs.  “I couldn’t protect Bethany.  I almost Carver killed in the Deep Roads.  I can talk to a few boring men for her sake.”

“You don’t have to do that for her,” Isabela says softly.  

Hawke swallows hard.  “It’s fine.  It gives her something to do other than miss Bethany and Carver.”

“At least she just wants you to be happy? And she can’t make you marry one of them,” Isabela points out. 

“Yeah.  That’s good,” Hawke says dully.

There’s an awkward silence, and the music from inside changes, something a little more upbeat.  Isabela steps forward and touches her back gently.

“I like this one.  Wanna dance, Hawke?” Isabela asks.  

Hawke turns to Isabela, who looks surprisingly earnest in the moonlight.  She has to be the most beautiful woman that Hawke has ever seen.  It’s really unfair, in Hawke’s humble opinion, and she takes her hand without thinking.

Isabela leads her to the dancefloor.  She puts her free hand on Hawke’s shoulder, squeezing gently as Hawke takes her waist.  

It takes Hawke a moment to realize that she has to lead, but when she does, it’s with confidence.  This isn’t the first time that she’s led a woman dancing, so she knows what to do, and as with so many things, it’s so much easier with Isabela.  

They swirl together and swirl apart as the song demands, but Hawke can’t keep her eyes off of Isabela.  Her hair fans out, even under the cloth she usually wears, and there’s such a smile on her face.  She’s beauty and grace personified; it hurts to see sometimes, but this isn’t one of those times.

When the song ends, far too soon, they embrace, both panting heavily and near laughter.  Isabela’s warmth is a comfort, and Hawke presses a kiss to her cheek.  

“You’re quite the dancer,” Isabela whispers in her ear.  “Of course, I’m not surprised.”

Her breath makes Hawke shiver.  Hawke is so used to being stoic all the time that it throws her doubly off balance when Isabela flirts with her like this.  

“You're not half bad yourself,” Hawke says lamely.  

Isabela chuckles and they're so close that Hawke can feel it.  

“Hawke, I'm an excellent dancer,” Isabela says.  “Although, I’d rather show you my other moves.”

Hawke knows she should really stay, but she catches glimpse of Mother on the arm of another prospective suitor.  Today has been long enough and she doesn't have it in her to talk to another man.  

“Let's get out of here,” Hawke agrees.  

As they head towards the door, Hawke realizes that Mother is moving to intercept them.  She braces for impact.  

“Jaina!”

“We were just leaving,” Isabela says.  “A pleasure as always.”

“So sad,” the man says in a thick Orlesian accent.  “Perhaps I could call on you at home, serrah Hawke.”

“No,” Hawke says flatly.  “I'm out every day.”

“Dinner, then?” 

“No,” Hawke says, turning to Mother.  “I'll see you back at the estate.”

Mother is frowning at her and she feels a rush of shame.  “Goodnight.”

Hawke and Isabela depart without saying anything else, but when they get outside, Isabela laughs.  

“If you're that cordial to all the men she's tried to set you up with, it's a wonder she hasn't figured it out yet,” Isabela says.  

“I've gotten better,” Hawke says defensively.  “The first time she introduced me to a man at one of these parties, I said I was dying.  Mother wasn't amused.”

“Oh, Hawke,” Isabela says affectionately, bumping her hip against Hawke’s.  “That's probably the best way to get rid of men, though.  They can be irritatingly persistent people.”

Hawke laughs, as the tension drains out of her. “Yes, they can be.”

Isabela draws her into an alleyway, pressing her lips against Hawke’s neck.  “Enough about men.”

Hawke couldn’t agree more.


End file.
